No Regrets

Chapter 3

     Liam opened the door and walked in shouting, "Rossetta! Rossetta! Dinner!" He was drunk like always and was stumbling as he walked through the house. I was in my room playing with my toys but even without seeing him, I knew that he was drunk. There was never a day where he didn't drink to the point he was drunk and sometimes black-out drunk. The days he was black-out drunk were the days that hurt the most. It was then that he was more violent towards my mother and the worst part was, he never remembered it. The next morning he would smile and ask how my mom got a bruise or a cut. He would smile because he knew the answer, he didn't remember it happening and he still made sure to make it hell for her after the fact.

     Mom ran out of her room after hearing his shouts, she was just finishing taking a shower and getting into her pajamas. "Sit down, I'll get you dinner!" She ran into the kitchen and quickly filled the plate with grilled chicken, rice, and steamed carrots. Serving the plate, she sat next to him; Liam loved to eat with someone, otherwise he would get mad and annoyed. Screaming how rude we were to leave him sitting alone, "If I knew you two would be disrespectful pricks, I would have never married you and had Margaret!" He would scream from across the house when we let him eat on his own. The house would shake, and I would freeze, only being able to move my head to stare at my door and wish he wouldn't yell so much. Scared that the cops would be called again by the neighbors because my mother was still too afraid and had love for him to do anything. And when those cops showed up, she didn't press charges and instead kept hoping and praying that one day he would change. But right after the cops left, Liam would go in a fitting rage and take it out on mother. Although I never once blamed her for not leaving sooner, I wondered for how our lives would of been if she had just pressed charges the first time.

       Mother would close her eyes and flinch after hearing his screams, afraid to go back to the dining room and sit next to him. But she would be forced to do it in order to stop him from being so angry. She would mentally prepare herself to sit next to such a frightening man.

     He smiled and grabbed a fork, cutting into the chicken with the steak knife and putting it in his mouth. Mom looked at him with a fake smile while tense, hoping everything went right. His eyebrows furrowed and he spit out the chicken, "It's fucking cold! Why would you serve me something cold? God, you're so useless."

     Mom tried so hard to keep the fake smile and tried to keep her tears inside herself. If she cried, he would start mentally abusing her about how much she cried. Weird for Liam to do it whenever he did because mother made sure never to cry in front of him. It was a way to show him that she was stronger than he thought and she would never let him win. Hearing his complaints and fixing it before he started punching and pushing, she stood up and took the plate. A tear came out and she quickly faked a yawn, "I'll heat it up in the microwave."

     "Reheating is for indolent people who choose not to cook. Heat it on the stove, over a flame, like a good wife should."

     Mom did so, taking longer than it would have to use the microwave. And dad was not patient, he became enraged and began shouting nonsense. 

     Everything began to turn gibberish, and quickly the apartment became the condo mother and I live in today. Then, my room, as my brain began to wake itself up and process the fact that we were sleeping in my room.

     "Wake up Maggie. Maggie, wake up," Liam began to say as my brain moved back to the apartment. But, his rage turned to whispers. Odd, I thought. That wasn't Liam at all.

     He touched my shoulder and rubbed it, "Wake up!"

     I opened my eyes, confused as to what was happening. The light was turned on and father faced me, "Finally you're awake. It took a good while." He looked at my terrorized face, "Are you okay? Did you have a bad dream?"